


A Fellowship of Trust

by orphan_account



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling, The Lord of the Rings - J. R. R. Tolkien
Genre: Alternate Universe - Harry Potter Setting, Alternate Universe - Hogwarts, Angst and Fluff and Smut, Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Angst with a Happy Ending, Eventual Smut, F/F, M/M, Multi, Protective Legolas Greenleaf, Slow Burn, Slow Romance
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-08-22
Updated: 2018-08-28
Packaged: 2019-06-30 16:48:07
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 3
Words: 15,017
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15755796
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: Within the lands of Middle-Earth, there is more than just the spread of knowledge - For there is the spread of magic. Over a stretch of many years, Legolas Greenleaf makes many friends and certainly many enemies, learning that it's going to take a lot more than words to follow Frodo Baggins, The Boy Who Lived, to the end of time. Thank Merlin he has his friends ( and perhaps more, with a certain Dwarf? ) to guide him along, for Hogwarts is both a safe and secretive place.ORLOTR Harry Potter AU.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> **A couple of things to note about this fanfiction:**
> 
> \- Disclaimer: I do not own any of the LOTR characters, nor do I own the Harry Potter Universe. All rights are reserved to J. R. R. Tolkien and J. K. Rowling, and this fanfiction is simply for entertainment, not for profit.
> 
> \- This fanfiction is mostly going to be in the point of view Legolas Greenleaf, who is a friend of Frodo Baggins, the 'Boy Who Lived.' Rather than tell the main story over, I'll be writing in Legolas' perspective to show what he and the rest of the Fellowship would do and are willing to do for Frodo.
> 
> \- There is some Sindarin language within this chapter. If you are on a computer, you will be able to hover over the word to see what it means. If you are on mobile, I will provide the translations in the beginning notes.
> 
> \- Although they are first years, I assumed there has to be a ‘proper age’ to which each race could enter Hogwarts so that it coincides with their ability to learn. I figured that they would all know quite much entering already, seeing as an Elf’s lifespan is incredibly long, as well as Dwarf and Hobbit following foot. ( Not nearly as long, but you get the gist. ) So mentally, they all are the ‘same age’. That’s why it may seem that they all are very knowledgeable. 
> 
> \- In this Alternate Universe, both Middle-Earth and what we call our Earth exists. There are many hidden passages into Middle-Earth for non-muggles, though the main one is Platform 9¾.
> 
> \- Non-muggles within this universe are all inhabitants of our Earth, which is purely occupied of the race of Men. I figured that Elves, Dwarves, Hobbits and all other races are all very familiar with the subject of magic. This does not mean, however, that the race of Men cannot attend Hogwarts. ( Take Hermione Granger, for example. )
> 
> \- This story will mainly be about the romantic interactions of **Gimli and Legolas** ( AKA, Gigolas - The best ship name ), through of course, slow burn. Although side ships will not be ignored, I’d like them to be the main focus.
> 
>  **TRANSLATIONS**  
>  \- Ada : father.  
> \- iôn : son.  
> \- Im iest na gar- i er : I wish to have that one.  
> \- Legrin : swift.  
> \- Nín iôn : my son.  
> \- Im ceri- : I do.
> 
>  **OTHER PLACES TO REACH ME:**  
>  \- aplacetoland on tumblr  
> \- shaelyndraws on instagram

The Shire was most normally a peaceful place. Hobbits lived in serenity, delved within their gardening and growing knowledge, and pride of making rather fine meals. They were a quiet people, though on this night in Autumn, everything seemed all too short of undisturbed.

Drogo and Primula Baggins ( née Brandybuck ) were the proud parents of young Frodo Baggins, who was just a babe at the time. They were hidden, their location primarily unknown aside from few friends and family, and planned to keep it that way. Lord Sauron had attempted to recruit the two of them three times now, wishing to lure them in and to join Sauron’s Army. He understood that Drogo and Primula were skilled non-muggles, strongly willed and quick-witted. Yet, Sauron began to grow tired of their denial, and instead decided to take up the two of them himself.

Drogo and Primula Baggins were murdered on October 31st. Frodo Baggins was in his crib, wailing as it occurred, although as time passed he would realize he was much too young to recall his parent’s death. In protection of Frodo, Primula had attempted to fight back, but it proved fruitless, for she soon suffered the same fate as her husband.

Sauron’s attempt to murder Frodo was not as successful. Frodo had survived the attack, and not only so, cast the One Ring off of Sauron’s finger from the recoil. Lord Sauron fled, leaving Frodo alive and the Ring for taking.

The neighbor next door had come over after the fact to check what all of the obnoxious sounds had been at such a time at night, but was left horrified at the scene they stumbled upon. Instantly had they ushered Bilbo Baggins over, Frodo’s uncle, and told him the news.

Bilbo had made the abrupt and easy decision to take care of Frodo Baggins, and raise him as his own.

To this day, however, Bilbo had not told a soul of his finding of the One Ring, for even he was unsure of the power it possessed.

* * *

“Erh—Uncle Bilbo?” Frodo’s voice called from outside, though the Hobbit had stepped into Bag End, looking down at a letter in his hands. It was an envelope of parchment paper, with a wax seal at the back. “What’s this?”

Bilbo was busy inside the living room, though he glanced up when Frodo came in. It took him little to no time to realize what he had in his hands, and he smiled.

“I think this must be for you. Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. You’re a professor there. I do think they wrote the wrong name.”

“No, my dear Frodo. That is yours.”

“Mine?”

“Yes. Your very own letter.” Bilbo exhaled, pushing the seat from the table next to him with his foot for Frodo to sit. “Come. Sit down. I have too much to share with you.”

* * *

The Sorting Hat. It was of the most frightening of experiences for a first year student at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. _What if I’m a Slytherin?_ And perhaps a short _gasp_ before the, _or a Hufflepuff?_ However, as many parents had always reassured their beginning witches and wizards, Hufflepuffs were very courageous – Take Newt Scamander, for example, the quiet man with a love for misunderstood beasts. Even Slytherin was nothing short of fine, as any house was, and should be.

Thranduil Greenleaf, however, had other viewpoints of the houses. As Professor of Charms, with flowing waves of silver strands and a cold, sturdy set of pupils, he taught his core curriculum with a strict, far-reaching inclination. It was only expected that he acts in such a way, due to the fact that Charms was indeed significant, and would appear on their O.W.L. exams in further years. He had not let that fact be dismissed, most especially to his entering first years, for although it may seem he could be ill-intentioned at times, he only wished for his students to do well. And of course, among those students, was his very own kin, Legolas Greenleaf.

Legolas was far gentler around others in comparison to his father. He would listen deeply to those who spoke to him, nod along to what they were saying, or perhaps even reply with piece of advice. His hair was similar to his father’s, without flaw and with a center braid at the back, tucked behind a set of pointed ears to make it evident to others his race. Not many, however, would be able to mistake an Elf, especially due to his creamy complexion and undying spread of knowledge from his lips. Many Elves were placed into the house of Slytherin, not for their poor personality, for no Elf owned such, but instead for their cunning personality, and sharpness at subject. Thranduil Greenleaf had been placed into Slytherin, and his father Oropher Greenleaf before that. He was expecting his son to be placed into the might of the Slytherin house, by Merlin’s beard, he convinced himself he _knew_ Legolas would be elected into it. Thranduil was notorious amongst non-muggles with the fact that he thought himself as high and mighty – Disliking dwarves and the poisoning minds of men ( at least to him ), Thranduil had always told of Legolas to _watch_ , for any man or dwarf would be quick to betray someone even as close as a brother just for a simple coin.

Legolas believed little of his father’s words, nodding along and pressing a smile of understanding, but it was what Legolas was most delighted to do – To meet _other_ races, seeing as he had spent most to all of his life around the Elves. To see the Dwarves, Men, to spot a Hobbit in plain sight and see that they truly are as short as suggested. Legolas was young, for an Elf, and although he had been learning for quite some time, it was finally his first year at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. Not only so, but he had heard that a certain Frodo Baggins was to appear as a classmate of his year, the very Hobbit who had survived Lord Sauron’s attack after murdering Frodo’s parents just before. Legolas would be a liar and a fool to say he _wasn’t_ interested in meeting the Boy Who Lived, for he had so many questions, and so many left unanswered – Especially due to the fear of asking his father.

But first, supplies. It was what any Hogwarts student would need, and although Thranduil wished for he to go out and buy everything for Legolas himself, his son _insisted_ that they spend the day in Diagon Alley so that they could build off each other’s opinions, especially in choosing a pet. A wand was a given, seeing as the wand _chose_ its master, and Legolas was only that much more excited to step into Ollivanders Wand Shop.

He had decided to enter Eeylops Owl Emporium first, his father following shortly behind, a hand brushing his son’s shoulder as they walked in. The birds were hooting contently, attempting to catch the eye of any nearby witch or wizard, or perhaps their new owner. Legolas’ bright eyes of blue scanned the store, where the occasional feather fluttered to the ground, or an owl would squawk dramatically when a student reached out to pet the bird through the bars of the cages. Before Legolas could even _begin_ to choose his owl, however, he caught sight of another Elf, standing by the cage of a dark-feathered owl, finger upon his chin with his head at a slight tilt. He had long blonde hair as well, a bit more beige compared to Legolas’. And next to him… A _Dwarf_! An actual Dwarf! He was short, with a mane of red curls and an ever-growing start of a beard, admiring the same owl that the Elf was. So, Dwarves _do_ start growing facial hair rather early, don’t they? Another interesting fact, and something Legolas intended to keep in mind. Legolas’ veins flooded with elation, and he breathed in a bit.

“Well, go on.” Thranduil grinned, bending down for his voice to meet Legolas’ ear in a soft whisper, tone light and friendly. “Go say hi.”

Legolas smiled. His feet started to bring him towards the Dwarf, though they hesitated in their tracks when Thranduil spoke up once more.

“After all, having Elven friends is a wise choice. I’m proud of you, my son.”

Legolas blinked, and swallowed the hesitation. _Okay_ , he thought, _No Dwarf, then._ Maybe he could catch a swift word when his father was to glance away, or pull the Dwarf towards the back to catch at least some form of conversation. No… No, then that would be odd, wouldn’t it? Yes, it would…

He hadn’t realized he had finally approached, his eyes upon the Elf, and when he turned, he eyed Legolas for a moment, before smiling.

“Hello.” Legolas greeted, not entirely shy, for he was a very open Elf.

“Hi.” The Elf greeted back, bowing in return to the greet. “My name is Haldir. What’s yours?”

“Legolas.” He said, bowing as well, though he fumbled with the material of his outer clothing, a soft brown in comparison to the Elvish silk he wore underneath, which poked out as shimmering flaps at his collar, moreover serving _as_ the collar. “Legolas Greenleaf.”

Haldir seemed impressed, and he glanced over to Thranduil, who was occasionally casting a glance over towards his son in mere interest to see if he was, in a way, fitting in. “You’re Thranduil’s son.” He said, eyes moving back to Legolas.

“I am.” Legolas said. He could have sworn the Dwarf peeked from Haldir’s side, as if he was unintentionally eavesdropping. Legolas didn’t mind. He wanted to know the Dwarf as well, however, in fear of his father…

“My father has told me _much_ about you. You are a very noble family. I’m eager to take his Charms class.”

“Erh—Yes, he’s—”

“Excuse me,” Haldir said suddenly, cutting Legolas off, but it had taken him a moment to realize Haldir had turned to the Dwarf, a sudden vibration of annoyance within his tone. He was speaking to the ginger, an eyebrow raised, lips sneered. “You aren’t thinking of _buying_ this owl, are you? Because obviously, I was going to.”

The Dwarf tilted his chin up to the Elf, blinking. Now that Haldir was out of the way, he had only now realized how tall the Elves were compared to them. Legolas wondered if Hobbits were shorter, as he had been told. “Well, I mean, I had been looking—”

“But I said _I_ was going to buy it. After all, you may not even be able to afford it, will you?”

“Dwarves do own much wealth.” Legolas said as neutrally as he was able to, tilting his head slightly.

Haldir chose to ignore Legolas’ words. “You’re all beard and no brains. Step away from my owl.”

The Dwarf rose a tousled brow. “I wasn’t _planning_ on buying the bird, anyway. I have a pet of my own.”

Legolas hid a smile. He admired the Dwarf’s fierceness.

“A pet? I’m surprised you aren’t one yourself.” Haldir chuckled bitterly. “What is it, anyway? A rat?”

The Dwarf shrunk a bit. Legolas could tell the Dwarf felt ashamed because Haldir was right.

Haldir laughed triumphantly. “Oh, it is! How sweet. Does he sleep between your feet when you sleep?”

“Haldir!” A voice came from the other side of the store. It was Haldir’s father unmistakably, and he offered Legolas a small smile before turning with a look of disgust from the Dwarf. The Dwarf had coins within his palm, and before Haldir turned, he smacked them from his hands, and towards his father. The coins clattered down onto the wooden floor below, some spinning, and others rolling towards Legolas’ feet.

The Dwarf sighed, mumbling something under his breath, and he bent down to pick them up.

Legolas assisted without hesitation, bending down to grasp a couple of the coins. “If it means anything,” He started, “I think a rat is a very noble pet.”

The Dwarf searched for some hint of sarcasm within his voice or expression but found none. He stood up a bit, and although he was standing up straight, Legolas was at eyelevel with him when knelt down. He glanced away, reluctant to answer. “It’s a rat.” He murmured. “Is it anything short of pathetic?”

Legolas smiled a little bit. “I don’t think it’s pathetic.” He said truthfully. He took a gander over at his father, who was in deep conversation with the shop owner. His pupils shifted back upon the Dwarf. “I’m Legolas.”

“Erh—Gimli.” The ginger greeted. Legolas extended his hand, handing to Gimli the coins he dropped. “Son of Glóin.”

“Of Glóin?” Legolas beamed. “Your father – He is good friends with Thorin Oakenshield, no? Hogwarts’ Potion’s professor?”

Gimli nodded. “Yes.”

“He’s a very respectable Dwarf, or… so I’ve read.”

“You must read a lot, then.” Gimli pointed out. “Listen… Legolas, you—You needn’t be kind to me. If there’s one thing I dislike more than a discourteous nature, it’s pity.”

“Pity is a gift of the wise and noble. There is nothing wrong with it.” Legolas said. “But I show no pity for you, Gimli, Son of Glóin. I offer you friendsh—”

“ _Legolas!_ ” Thranduil hissed, for his conversation with the storekeeper had come to a halt when he spotted Legolas speaking to the Dwarf. “Come here.”

Legolas turned to Gimli with an apologetic look. “It was nice to meet you, Gimli. Perhaps I will spot you within the castle.” And he stood, moving back to his father, who was glaring disapprovingly towards Gimli.

“What did he want?” Thranduil said, a hint of distaste in his voice.

“Nothing, _Ada_ , he just dropped his coins. I was helping him.” Legolas said truthfully.

Thranduil’s eyes met Legolas’. “He doesn’t need your assistance. He’s close enough to the ground to grab it himself.”

Legolas glanced away. “I was simply trying to make friends.”

Thranduil exhaled. He feared this would occur, since it wasn’t _always_ likely that other races befriended one another. But it wasn’t entirely unexpected. “Have you chosen an owl, _iôn_?”

Legolas had barely had time to even glance upon any of the owls, aside from the one Haldir had claimed so viciously. He picked up his chin, eyes trailing the store, before he caught sight of a somewhat smaller bird, seemingly a horned owl with large orbs of yellow-ochre and a brown-speckled coat. “ _Im iest na gar- i er._ ” Legolas said in Elvish tongue, gesturing towards the owl.

Thranduil nodded. “Wonderful. May we have that one, please?” He turned towards the shopkeeper, who nodded as he went to retrieve the owl from the shelf. “What shall you name him?”

Legolas thought for a moment, glancing up at his father. “How about Arod?” He smiled.

“ _Legrin._ ” Thranduil repeated with a soft smile. _Swift_ , in common tongue. “Let’s hope he holds up to the name.”

* * *

After retrieving his books, his wand ( which happened to be ten-and-three-quarter inch vine wood, dragon heart-string ), and the remainder of his supplies, Thranduil arrived with his son at the train station. Legolas had always dreamed of entering Platform 9¾ at King’s Cross Station, with cart in hand and freedom to enter the wall without hesitation.

And so, he did. In an instant, he entered the bricks, quite literally – But instead of hitting face-first into the exterior, he went right through, and was welcomed by the bustling of witches, wizards and worried parents ushering their children onto the train upon Platform 9¾. Thranduil was right behind him, and he turned his son towards him with a smile. Kneeling down, he found Legolas’ eyes. “ _Nín iôn,_ be safe. I have a couple of things to take care of before I arrive at the castle. Go. Make some good friends.” He said and leaned forward to place a gentle kiss to Legolas’ forehead.

Legolas nodded, bowing slightly, and he smiled, before turning and grasping all of his things, stepping onto the train. He squeezed past a couple of Elves, mumbling a soft excuse me, and soon enough the train took off. He had just enough time to glance from an open window and wave goodbye before it left the station, and he returned to searching for an empty cart, or perhaps, even one with a possible friendship inside.

He started down the small hallway where door after door lay carts, though most were full, some of first years, others of second and third, and so on. Legolas had finally reached a cart with just one boy inside, with shoulder-length hair and a snowy owl resting humbly in its cage next to him. _Might as well try,_ he thought to himself, slowly opening the door, and offering the boy with a smile. “Hello. All of the other carts are rather full… It is all right if I join you?”

The boy looked up, revealing a slight glow to his cerulean irises. He nodded. “All right.”

Legolas thanked him quietly, stepping inside and setting his things atop, before situating himself within the cushioned seat across from the boy. “I’m Legolas.” He greeted after a moment of silence.

The boy nodded, smiling a little bit. “I’m Aragorn.”

Legolas blinked, returning the smile. “Elessar? Aragorn Elessar?”

Aragorn nodded. “Son of Arathorn.”

Legolas bowed his head. “I’ve heard much about you. You are noble, Aragorn, for even my father is fond of you.”

“Your father?”

Legolas nodded. “Yes. Thranduil Greenleaf.”

Aragorn rose an impressive brow. “He is the Charms professor, is he not? Amongst the most respectable of the Elves?”

Legolas smiled. “Well—Yes, as many say.”

Aragorn paused. “Why are you speaking to me, anyway? I’ve been told it’s more common for Elves to speak to their own kind.”

Legolas smiled. “That’s not entirely true. At least not for me.” He said softly. “It’s very nice to meet you, Aragorn.”

Aragorn nodded. He opened his mouth to speak, but there was a sound of someone dropping something outside, with the clatter of books and seemingly other items, before the head of a Dwarf popped up by the window of the door to the cart. His hair was disheveled, ginger, and—Gimli. That was Gimli.

Legolas couldn’t help but laugh, and he stood, opening up the door. “Need a hand?” He offered, bending down to grab some of Gimli’s books.

Gimli huffed, though he laughed slightly as well. “I need about four.”

“It seems as if I’m always picking up after you.” Legolas teased lightly, helping Gimli bring his things into the cart and placing them on the above shelves. Gimli took a seat next to Legolas. “Gimli, this is Aragorn. Aragorn, Gimli.”

“Aragorn? Son of Arathorn?”

Aragorn chuckled, extending his hand. “Hello, Gimli.”

Gimli shook it with a firm grip, though any Dwarf’s normal grasp could be powerful. “It’s good to meet you. I never expected to be meetin’ too many at Hogwarts.”

“I’m sure this is as interesting as it’ll get.” Aragorn said, half-teasing.

After another moment, there was another sound outside—Much louder than Gimli’s, books, the tips of quill pens, papers, and… Bodies, all falling, most likely tripping.

“Ah! Pippin, you’ve got my sleeve!”

“Well, that’s not _my_ fault is it? For Merlin’s sake!”

“Would you two quit whining? We’ve yet to find a cart that isn’t full!”

One of the voices must have reached up to grasp the doorknob, for it slipped soon after, and the door to their card slid open, revealing not one, nor two, but four Hobbits – They must have fallen, for they were all atop each other, trying to wriggle out of their tangle of body parts, books and bags. Four sets of eyes immediately looked up into the cart, where Aragorn, Legolas and Gimli looked right back at them, confused for a moment.

“Hello!” One of them said, grinning a little bit. He had light brown hair, blonder than brunette. Dirty blonde, to say the least. “Sorry to, erh—Disturb you. We’re just… We—”

“Shut it, Pippin.” The other one grumbled, with the same color hair as to who they would assume to be Pippin.

“Oh—Sam, you’re on my leg…”

“Sorry, Mister Frodo…” The other Hobbit said, who had a hint of ginger in his hair and was a bit heavier than the other three.

Legolas thought for a moment. “Frodo? Frodo Baggins?”

Aragorn and Gimli’s eyes were tied now simply to Frodo, as were Legolas’. Frodo had a head of dark curls, with a set of azure irises to match. The Hobbit glanced between the three of them, and once Sam had finally gotten back onto his feet, Frodo stood, brushing himself off. “Yes. That’s me.” He said. “Is it all right if we…?”

“Come in.” Aragorn said warmly, standing up. “Let us help you get your things in.”

Legolas, Gimli, and Aragorn assisted in placing their things atop the shelves or under the seats, and once they were all squeezed in, they looked at each other, expecting one of them to speak up.

“My name is Legolas.” The Elf finally said after a moment, offering a smile to them all. “Legolas Greenleaf.”

“Aragorn.” The boy greeted.

“And me name’s Gimli, son of Glóin.” The Dwarf bowed his head.

“Frodo.” He said timidly, a brief smile on his lips. “As you know.”

“I’m Samwise Gamgee.” The ginger Hobbit spoke up, his smile friendlier, and a bit more long-lasting.

“I’m Meriadoc Brandybuck, but I’m mostly called by the name of Merry.” One of the other’s spoke up, a crooked smile tugging at the corners of his mouth.

“And I’m Peregrin Took! But please, call me Pippin.” The dirty-blonde Hobbit said, his smile energetic.

They looked around at each other again. Somehow, all of their eyes ended back on to Frodo. “D’ya really have the scar?” Gimli said after a moment, curiosity getting the best of him.

“Erh—Yes, I do.” Frodo said, reaching up to brush his curly bangs from his forehead and show to them the jagged scar, even if Sam, Merry and Pippin have seen it loads of times before. He slowly removed his hand. “To be truthful, I… never quite knew what it meant until recently.”

“But your uncle… He’s Bilbo Baggins, is he not? The Professor of History of Magic?” Legolas questioned.

“Well… Yes. But he was trying to protect me from it all. He kept everything very vague, that is, until I opened my very own Hogwarts’ letter in the mail. We sat down and had a very long talk after that.” Frodo exhaled.

Aragorn tilted his head. “It must be very hard for you, Frodo.”

“Overwhelming, yes.” Frodo leaned back into his seat, where he was squeezed next to Gimli and Sam. “Yet I’ve found this is the most entertainment I’ve experienced since Bilbo’s birthday party last year.” He said, and then smiled. It was obvious that positivity was laced within Frodo’s personality.

“Oh, that is a most common discussion among dinner.” Legolas laughed. “Is it true that one hundred and twenty people attended last year?”

“One hundred and forty.” Frodo corrected. “I do believe that this year, it’ll be hosted at Hogwarts.”

Gimli looked a tad excited. Merry and Pippin must have just received the news, for they were just as elated. “Hogwarts? At _Hogwarts?_ ” Merry questioned, Pippin staring with wide eyes over at Frodo.

Frodo laughed a little bit. “Yes. At Hogwarts.”

“Well, it is this month, is it not? I think it’s a good start to the school year.” Samwise pointed out.

Their conversation was halted when the sound of a slight squeak-and-roll was evident within the hallway, and an old, white-haired and stubby Dwarf opened up their door. “Anything from the trolley, dears?”

They all looked at each other again, and without hesitation bought about as much as they were able to from the candy-filled trays of Chocolate Frogs and Bertie Bott’s Every Flavour Beans. They laughed and told stories, Frodo sharing with the rest of them stories of Bilbo’s life and adventures, and how Thorin Oakenshield and Bilbo Baggins did indeed have _something_ going on there… It caused slight laughter from Merry and Pippin, and a miniature smile upon Gimli’s features.

And then, after so many hours, some of them had fallen asleep. Frodo had tucked his face into Sam’s shoulder, snoozing lightly, while Merry and Pippin continued to stuff themselves with chocolate. Aragorn had his head rested against the cool glass surface of the window, eyes closed, yet it was evident in some way that he was not within slumber. Legolas was thinking to himself as the sky was drained of blue and was replaced with darkened colors and stars, indicating that they would be arriving soon. 

“What house d’ya think you’ll get into?”

The voice was slightly unexpected, for Legolas had expected Gimli to be at rest, but when he turned to look down at the Dwarf next to him, he was still certainly wide awake.

“Me?” Legolas smiled, looking down to his hands in his lap. “Well… _Ada_ expects me to be placed in Slytherin.”

“Ada?” Gimli questioned, tilting his head.

“It means father.” Aragorn spoke up, peeking an eye towards the two.

Legolas’ head cocked in interest. “You speak Sindarin?”

“ _Im ceri-._ ” He smiled a bit, before shutting his eyes again. “I’m rather friendly with the Elf Arwen, son of Elrond. He’s Professor of Ancient Runes at Hogwarts. She taught me quite a bit of the Sindarin language.”

“Merlin knows how any of the professors tolerate each other.” Gimli pointed out, turning back to Legolas. “Anywho, what house?”

“Well, my f—”

“I care little about what your father thinks. What about you?” Gimli asked.

Legolas’ gaze returned out the window. “I’m not sure. I’m not exactly hoping for anything. I know the Sorting Hat will take care of where I need to be.”

“Well, it sure won’t be Slytherin.” Gimli said. “You don’t have a mean bone in your body, from what I’ve seen.”

Legolas smiled, though it was hidden from Gimli, due to the fact his head was turned. “Thank you.”

And then it was quiet again, and Aragorn might just have fallen asleep this time.

* * *

The train came to a screeching, hooting halt, which had awoken Frodo and Sam from their brief nap, and Aragorn from his rest. Legolas had still been awake, much too enthusiastic, and rather hungry. Thranduil had always told Legolas of the wonderful first dinner at the Great Hall, and how excited he would be to see his son walk up those steps and personally be placed into the house that the Sorting Hat wills so. He had gathered his things, the four Hobbits, Aragorn and Gimli doing the same, but they were only grateful when they found that their bags would be taken care of and brought to their dorms after they were placed into their houses.

Legolas walked with Gimli and Aragorn, the Hobbits scurrying close next to him. The Elf had caught a glimpse of their feet – No shoes and very hairy, calloused – And he was satisfied with the fact that what he had read had not lied to him. He shouldn’t be shocked, but he enjoyed the element of surprise. Sometimes.

They had filed into the large, dark wagons with four metal wheels, though they seemingly pulled themselves. As they followed the trail along the river, they had finally caught sight of the castle – Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. Legolas was sure he would never forget this moment.

Upon reaching the steps of the castle, they were let out and guided in through the front door, down a wide, warm and comforting hallway, before finally entering the Great Hall. It surely lived up to its name. Four enormously long wooden tables were stretched out in the main area, where towards the very back of the room another long table was visible, horizontal from the students’ tables, full of each and every professor. Legolas spotted his father, but his expression was unreadable from such a distance.

Most of the students were situated in their chairs already – Gryffindor, Slytherin, Ravenclaw and Hufflepuff students that were in second year or higher were instead watching the first years eagerly, who, now Legolas realizes, had been guided in by a tall, blonde woman, or rather an Elf, with a pale complexion and waves of golden hair. Her expression was neutral, though underlying features held sternness within.

And then, another man stood up. He was old, yes, very old – But still in good health. His beard was long, reaching below his chest, and he wore a pointed hat of grey, similar in color to his streaky-white curls. He had robes of tattered grey as well, and of course, who could possibly mistaken this as none other than Gandalf the Grey? Gandalf, the very headmaster at Hogwarts, with a staff in his right hand and a welcoming essence within his eyes.

“Welcome back, my students, and welcome my first years, to another year at Hogwarts.” He said, pausing briefly to allow cheers. “Now, I’m aware you’re all very tired and hungry, but do remember, this is most important for any first year at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry—Dinner will be served promptly after the Sorting Hat has finished placing the students. Be patient. It is well worth it, for it was you, a year or many years ago that would be sitting in this exact same spot. Professor Galadriel Epessë will be calling out the names, so my first years, do pay attention.”

It was silent for a moment. Thranduil’s eyes were eager, anticipating Legolas’ sorting, though it would take time with the amount of first years that had been welcomed into Hogwarts. Bilbo Baggins was situated next to the main, empty seat at the table, presumably belonging to Gandalf. He was beaming over at Frodo, who offered his uncle a small smile back. 

And the names started.

“Éowyn, daughter of Éomund.”

It was noiseless. Everyone stared around the first year crowd, where in the center a small girl was trying to get through, with hair of light blonde, though an expression of confidence. Not a pompous nature, but self-assurance.

She sat down, and the hat was placed upon his head. The expression upon the old material twisted and turned, seemingly speaking to himself to decide. And then, in a loud, roaring voice:

“Hufflepuff!”

The table of yellow erupted in over-enthusiastic cheers and audience, to where Éowyn was smiling happily. The hat was removed, and she stood, laughing gently to herself at the cheers as she started towards the Hufflepuff table.

Galadriel continued to move down the list.

“Boromir, son of Denethor II.”

Silence again, and then – “Gryffindor!”

And more cheers, just as loud as Hufflepuff.

“Faramir, son of Denethor II.” – “Hufflepuff!”

“Arwen, daughter of Elrond Peredhel.” – “Ravenclaw!”

“Frodo, son of Drogo Baggins.”

As Frodo’s name was called, there couldn’t have been a room so full of people that was so very speechless. Frodo started up the stairs, a bit self-conscious at all of the pairs of eyes upon him, though he figured he should get used to it. He sat down within the stool, and as he felt the hat upon his head, his face flushed. It was deathly quiet, and he squeezed his eyes shut, and then –

“ _Gryffindor!_ ”

And just like that, the silence broke, and the Gryffindor table had howled and bellowed delightfully, banging the table and stomping their feet, clapping their hands ardently.

Frodo couldn’t help the grin on his face, and Bilbo looked proud from his seat, clapping as well.

The list continued, and it got much better from there.

“Samwise, son of Hamfast Gamgee.”

Samwise’s father was indeed the Herbology professor at Hogwarts. Their family was proud of their plants, and most certainly their gardening.

“Gryffindor!”

“Tauriel, daughter of Mirkwood.” – “Ravenclaw!”

“Gimli, son of Glóin.”

Legolas patted his back from where he was, smiling as people stepped out of their way to let him through.

“Gryffindor!”

Clapping and cheers ensued, more table-slapping and feet-thumping.

“Haldir, son of Halmir.” – “Slytherin!”

Although many Elves had already been called up, _all_ of them had been placed into Slytherin so far. All of them. It wasn’t an exaggeration, at all. And Legolas was starting to wonder if that was his fate, too.

“Meriadoc, son of Saradoc Brandybuck.” – “Gryffindor!”

More names were called and continued. Many Ravenclaw, Slytherin, Hufflepuff, and…

“Aragorn, son of Arathorn.” – “Gryffindor!”

Cheers, and laughter and smiles. That’s what mainly filled the Great Hall, and Legolas was starting to dread his name being called.

“Éomer, son of Éomund.” – “Ravenclaw!”

“Peregrin, son of Paladin Took II.” – “Gryffindor!”

The first years were thinning out to their tables, and it was only Legolas, and a couple of other students left – He glanced around nervously. All of the friends he had made were placed into Gryffindor, and nearly every Elf was placed into Slytherin, aside from Arwen, who was most happily cheered on by her now-fellow Ravenclaw students.

“Legolas, son of Thranduil Greenleaf.”

Legolas inhaled, and similarly to Frodo, every single set of pupils within the room were glued to him. As he walked up the steps and towards the stool, he felt as if his feet were much too heavy compared to their lightweight nature, that they echoed within the Great Halls as if he were the only one in the room. He took a seat upon the stool, met with thousands of eyes staring at him, and his group of newfound friends all situated at the Gryffindor table together.

Legolas swallowed. He realized he didn’t fit into Slytherin. He would never make friends with anyone in that house. He closed his eyes shut. _Not Slytherin… Not Slytherin…_

“ _Gryffindor!_ ”

And the hall was silent. A majority of people within that room were expecting Legolas to be placed into Slytherin – It was extremely unlikely for any Elf to even be considered as a Gryffindor… But here he was, and after another moment, the room was filled with deafening cries of joy.

As Legolas walked towards the Gryffindor table, he had a wide smile upon his lips. He took a seat next to Gimli, resting his elbows upon the surface of the table as he received pats-on-the-back and words of encouragement, but as he looked over at his father… It was certain that Thranduil was _not_ happy. Legolas’ smile fell slightly, and he glanced away, but his mind was temporarily cleansed by the sudden display of food in front of him and on his plate. The sight of Gimli _at_ the sight of food lifted Legolas’ spirits quite easily.

* * *

“I think it’s just pure luck that we’ve all been put into Gryffindor.” Merry babbled as they entered their Gryffindor common room. It was late, and all of them were ready for some much-needed rest.

They started up the stairs, all seven of them, feeling somewhat triumphant after just being sorted. Aragorn, Legolas, and Gimli had found they were all in the same dorm, and in a separate one, the four Hobbits together as well. The first dorm in the hallway was the Hobbits’, and so they said their goodbyes and goodnights. Once the door was shut, the three of them started down the hall, and after finding their own room, stepped inside.

It was a circular room, with four or five beds against the wall so that they were all facing the center rug. Red and golden drapes served as curtains and privacy amongst the beds, and there was a window between each bed, moonlight shining through the class. One student had already come in, for the three of them easily assumed they’d be sharing with one other person.

The boy looked up from where he had chosen his bed. Brown hair and eyes, with a curious expression.

“Hello.” He greeted.

Aragorn bowed his head, and Gimli nodded. Legolas, however, spoke in return.

“Hello. You’re Boromir, right?” The Elf asked.

He smiled and nodded. “I am. If I’m not mistaken, you’re Legolas.”

Legolas beamed, and nodded. “And these are my friends, Aragorn and Gimli.”

 _Friends._ The word brought a blossoming flower of tenderness within his chest. He had friends. Perhaps Boromir would be their friend, too.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> As the group grows closer together, they begin to learn off of one another, and find that being there for each other comes naturally.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **More things to note about this fanfiction:**
> 
> \- First and foremost, please don't be afraid to ask questions. I figured some of this might be confusing!
> 
> \- In a way, I've sorted blended the histories of both Harry Potter and Lord of the Rings. The First Wizarding War is associated with smaller battles ( for example, ones that occurred during the Hobbit ), such as the Battle of Five Armies. A large difference is that Legolas was young at the time, as it is explained in this chapter, as was Tauriel, Fíli, and Kíli. Fíli and Kíli are a _bit_ older than the Fellowship, but not by much. That is also explained within this chapter. ( I'm really sort of hoping all of this blabbering blends together and makes sense, for even I confuse myself sometimes. )
> 
> \- Although it is known in Lord of the Rings that Lord Sauron does not truly seek for his ring until Frodo's time, for this fic I am doing a bit of a 'time squish'. Meaning, Lord Sauron's peak was during the First Wizarding War, and caused the chaos that ultimately led to the Battle of Five Armies. He was hoping for them to tear each other apart entirely, though when he realized his plan was failing, sought Drogo Baggins in hopes that the Hobbits would make an addition to his army. Of course, him refusing led to the death of Drogo and Primula, and for him to foolishly lose the ring. Due to this 'time squish', I figured it is very complicated to add Gollum to the story, but I will think of something.
> 
> \- Thank you all for tolerating my shitty-ness, and for some of you enjoying this fic, because it's absolute trash! I hope that as future chapters come and more is explained, you'll further understand it. For now, I hope these notes are of help. Enjoy the chapter!
> 
>  **TRANSLATIONS**  
>  \- There are no translations in this chapter.

The first few weeks were time for the first years to adjust, though some professors were a bit more patient than others. Thankfully, Legolas, Gimli, Aragorn and their Hobbit friends were in quite a few classes together. They had even welcomed Boromir into their group, the eight of them sticking together often, or whenever they were able to. Legolas was truly beginning to enjoy his time at Hogwarts, however, the expression on his father’s face still somewhat haunted him. His father hadn’t turned up to speak to him since, for all he earned was the occasional nod in the Great Hall or a brief smile. It was clear, however, that Thranduil was still displeased with Legolas’ house placement.

The group was on their way to Charms class, or at least, that’s where they were to meet up, seeing as Merry and Pippin had a separate class while the rest of them were in Transfiguration before. Frodo and Sam had shown up late to that, but they were only fortunate that Galadriel was an understanding professor and took into mind that they were indeed first years.

Legolas was dreading this class. He felt almost odd, attending his _father’s_ study, where most likely everyone would be thinking of him and observing him, seeing if he did indeed live up to Thranduil’s expectations. There was little he could do, however, for they were approaching the classroom, and the bathroom excuse was starting to grow old. His fingertips fumbled with his black robe, the uniform that Hogwarts had them wear, and he exhaled, preparing himself for what his mind assumed would be the worst.

Stepping inside, some students had already arrived – Haldir was at the far front, a bit of a pompous smirk to his lips as he spoke to another Elf next to him. She was laughing along to what he was saying, though no one cared to pay any mind. Of course, they were sharing this classroom with the Slytherins.

“Hurry in, children, we have much to discuss.” Thranduil instructed, casting his son a brief glance of greeting, before his eyes roamed the rest of the crowd who stepped in. He didn’t enjoy the fact that quite a few Dwarves were in this classroom, nor Hobbits, but he had learned to grow used to it over the years. It didn’t, however, halt his need to criticize one more than the other.

The chairs were on either side of the room, facing each other so it allowed Thranduil to glide his way down the middle, harshly examining anyone who was pronouncing a spell wrong or whisking their wand in an incorrect manner.

Once they were all seated – Gimli next to Legolas, following Aragorn, Boromir and the other four Hobbits in one row – Thranduil’s eyes scanned the room to make sure that all of his students have arrived. “Today we will be practicing the incantation of _Wingardium Leviosa._ This is a charm whose purpose is served to allow items to levitate or fly. It is a test of your magical skills, wand control, and above all, patience.” He said, the slight strictness within his tone establishing complete silence within the classroom. “Now, repeat after me: _Wingardium Leviosa._ ”

The student’s attempt to repeat the charm wasn’t very bad. In fact, it wasn’t bad at all, and Thranduil’s facial characteristics indicated that he was rather impressed. “Very good. Let’s hope your control over your wand is just as flawless.” He said, raising a brow as he reached into his robes to grasp his wand. “Watch closely. Your movement should be a swish and flick.” And with that, Thranduil moved his wrist, wand between his fingertips, doing so that obviously proved he had been repeating this spell for years, and was very familiar with it. “Now, try it. I’ll provide a proper example, and you will repeat the steps after I am finished.” He said.

Repeating the movement, he directed his wand towards a Dwarf’s book, and said clearly, “ _Wingardium Leviosa_.” The textbook levitated, the first years watching with gaping mouths and excited gasps as Thranduil completed the spell. He turned his head slowly to look around at them all. “If you have any questions, do ask. Let me see what you all can do.” He said, before dropping his wand, the textbook falling with it. He did little to aid the Dwarf in having to go around the set of desks to retrieve the textbook, now focused on his student’s ability to learn.

The room was filled with broken chants and whirling wands, though not many seemed to get it at first.

“Ow! Pippin, stop poking me with your wand!” Merry complained

“It’s not my fault. You’re sitting next to me!” Pippin replied.

Aragorn breathed in a bit, _swishing_ and _flicking_ his wand as he spoke, “ _Wingardium Leviosa._ ” His quill floated, and everyone stopped for a moment to admire how swiftly he had been able to cast the spell.

Thranduil approached slowly, head at a slight tilt. “Very good.” He praised, prying his eyes from the quill to instead stare at Aragorn. “What is your name?”

“Aragorn.” He said, lowering the Quill back down onto the desk.

“Ah. Son of Arathorn. Yes. I recognize you. The Sorting Hat chose quite well, hasn’t it?” Thranduil said rhetorically. “You’re a bright wizard, dare I say… Man?” He said, a bit suspecting, as if he was aware of something within Aragorn.

Aragorn leaned back a bit in his seat, his stare just as solid. “Thank you, professor.” He said simply, ignoring his second set of words.

Thranduil’s expression remained still, before he finally turned, the rest of the students within the room jumping or flinching at the movement. “Well? Carry on. I don’t see any wands moving.”

The students continued, and a couple more of them did very well in completing the task. Legolas was among one of them, the incantation coming naturally to him, though he found, as he looked over at his friend, that Gimli was struggling.

Gimli grunted as he failed for the fourth time, and if Legolas didn’t know any better, it seemed as if he wanted to snap his own wand in half.

“Let me help you.” Legolas said, smiling a little bit.

Gimli huffed again, though he turned to look at the Elf, and slowly nodded.

“Watch,” Legolas guided kindly, moving his wand without speaking the words. Gimli followed suit, starting to get the hang of it, though their session was halted when Thranduil placed himself in front of their desks, a set of scrutinizing pupils glued to Gimli.

“Well?” Thranduil kept his eyes in place. “Let me see it.”

“Oh, I was just helpi—”

“Show me what you can do, Dwarf.” Thranduil instructed, ignoring his son’s words.

Gimli shifted a bit in his seat, holding a firm grasp on his wand. Legolas sent to him a look of encouragement, meaningful eyes of a gentle blue allowing the Dwarf to relax that much more. He turned back to his quill upon the desk, raising his wand, and as he _swished_ and _flicked_ , said, “ _Wingardium Leviosa.”_

The quill did not move, and Haldir’s snickers could be heard from the front of the classroom. Thranduil did little to stop it, and he inhaled, ready to comment. Haldir, however, had set Gimli off, and he tried again, his words fiercer as he chanted the spell.

The quill floated, following the direction of Gimli’s wand, and Legolas beamed. He turned to watch his father’s expression, but Thranduil seemed unimpressed. “Perhaps next time you will get it the first time.” He said coldly, before starting down the aisle to instead examine the other students. 

* * *

“Legolas, not for nothing, but your father is terrifying.” Merry commented as they started down the corridor to the Great Hall.

“Merry,” Sam scolded slightly.

Legolas laughed. “No, it’s all right. He is a bit stern.” He said, choosing to say little of his father’s flaws.

“He’s a good professor, though.” Boromir commented, coming up to walk next to Aragorn. “Almost everyone in the class was able to do the charm.”

Gimli said nothing, walking next to Legolas with a taut expression.

“Gimli did excellent, though.” Legolas piped up. Everyone chimed in agreement.

“You did do very well, Gimli.” Aragorn encouraged, patting the Dwarf’s back as they walked. “It will just take a bit of time for Professor Greenleaf to accept it.”

Gimli murmured something incoherent but nodded. He was a bit thankful for his friends at the moment.

They entered the Great Hall for lunch, which was half-full at the moment. Some students were still finishing up classes or were simply late. The eight of them took their seats, the Hobbits sitting across from Legolas, Gimli, Aragorn and Boromir. “Say, what do we have next?” Frodo piped up, the Hobbits already filling their plates to the top.

“I think we all have Flying next.” Boromir pointed out, shuffling to get his own schedule out.

“Flying? Merry, did you hear that? We’re going to learn to fly.” Pippin said excitedly.

“Who’s our Professor?” Aragorn wondered aloud, peaking over Boromir’s shoulder to glance at the parchment paper in his hands.

“Erh—Says his name is Bard.” Boromir rose a brow.

Legolas blinked. “Bard? The bowman?”

“No. Doesn’t say bowman.” Merry commented.

“No, no, I—My father is well acquainted with him.” Legolas explained.

“Bilbo’s told me some about him, too.” Frodo commented, starting to eat his lunch. “He killed the Smaug, the King Under the Mountain, with just a bow. Not even his wand.”

“Have you ever met him?” Aragorn asked Legolas in curiosity.

Legolas shook his head. “I was still in training at the time. If I were ready, I would have fought with the rest of them in the War.”

“Your father’s trained you before Hogwarts?” It was Merry’s turn to speak.

“Well… Yes, most Elves are. They learn to use a series of weapons, not just their wand.” Legolas explained. He was most comfortable with a bow and arrow at hand, truth be told.

“All my father taught me was to swing an axe.” Gimli said, stuffing his face with chicken. “I turned out just fine.”

As they began to eat and continued their conversation, Legolas caught out of the corner of his eye another Elf – As soon as he had laid eyes upon him he had recognized him as Haldir, and vexation stirred within his chest. He glanced away, but Haldir did not fail to approach.

“You all did so very wonderful in Charms today.” Haldir sneered, and since the seat next to Legolas was open, he took the liberty to rest his palm against the table within that spot, turning towards the rest of them. “Even the Dwarf. I’m surprised that Thranduil didn’t offer him that of a booster seat.”

A couple of Slytherins had followed behind him, snickering at Haldir’s words.

Legolas turned towards Haldir with an irritated expression. “Correct me if my words are false, Haldir,” He started, offering an innocent smile. “But you were entirely unable to lift your own quill. An Elf would be noble to congratulate success rather than step upon it.”

Haldir’s look was of disgust as he stared down at Legolas. “I see the Sorting Hat chose well.” He rose a brow. “Such an Elf as you belongs in Gryffindor scum.”

“By my father’s beard, I’ll grab this cup of pumpkin juice and sh—” Gimli started, but was cut off as Gandalf’s presence became evident from behind Haldir.

“I don’t suppose you are lost?” Gandalf questioned Haldir, a brow raised.

Haldir stood there for a moment, a bit shocked, and his fellow Slytherin goons had already run off. “Erh—No, Headmaster, I—”

“Oh, good. I was afraid by now I’d have to show you the way to the Slytherin table. Off you go.” Gandalf smiled, and Haldir gave the group one last look of disapproval before walking off. He cast a gaze upon the table, bowing his head. “Hello, Frodo. Samwise.” He greeted, with a silent greet towards the other two Hobbits. His eyes found Legolas. “Legolas Greenleaf,” He said.

“Yes, sir.” Legolas offered him a light smile.

“You should be proud of the house you’ve been placed into. You fit very well with this group. Do me a favor – Keep your friends grounded.” The Headmaster leaned forward a bit. “It is known that Elves are quite light-footed, but strong. Guide your friends along, dear Legolas, they need you.”

“Yes, sir.”

Gandalf paused briefly to find Frodo’s eyes once more, as if he were checking up on him, seeing if he were alright. Finally, after his brief examination, Gandalf headed back to the table for professors to finish his lunch, sitting down next to Bilbo to discuss few items.

“You know Gandalf?” Aragorn turned towards Frodo.

Frodo nodded. “He’s a good friend of Bilbo’s. Visits the Shire quite often. He set off fireworks for Bilbo’s birthday party, too.” He explained. “Not a lot of the Hobbits, however, are _too_ fond of him.” He smiled a bit. “Some of them enjoy things unchanged and peaceful.”

“Not us.” Merry piped up, practically inhaling his goblet of pumpkin juice. “We _like_ change. Sometimes.”

The rest of them began to speak and finish off their lunch, Legolas glancing over at Gimli. “Listen—Gimli, I am sorry about my father today. He’s… rather unsure about—”

“Anyone who isn’t an Elf?” Gimli rose a brow, looking up at Legolas.

Legolas exhaled, but nodded. “Yes.”

“It’s fine, lad.” Gimli reassured, patting Legolas’ arm. “You needn’t apologize for your father’s mistakes.” He turned back to his plate, though Legolas’ eyes lingered on Gimli. Eventually, he looked away to eat the rest of the food on his plate, which he had been absentmindedly picking at.

Before lunch was to end, a swarm of owls entered the Great Hall, carrying packages, mail, letters, gifts and the like.

“Look at that,” Pippin said excitedly. “Fredegar’s got a Remembrall.”

Fredegar “Fatty” Bolger, a fair fellow of the Shire, had just opened up a gift from his grandmother. It was a clear orb with a single golden coil wrapped around it.

“A Remembrall.” Aragorn said in interest. “I’ve read that when the smoke inside of it turns red, it means you’ve forgotten something.”

Fredegar watched as the smoke within the orb grew a deep, dark crimson. “Problem is… I don’t recall what I’ve forgotten!”

The few Hobbits laughed as they continued to open their letters. The Daily Prophet landed next to Gimli’s plate, to which he ignored as he ate. While the others opened their letters and such, Legolas retrieved the rolled-up newspaper, his eyes scanning the headline. “Someone’s broken into Gringotts.” He said with a frown.

All of them stopped reading and eating at once, and he extended his hand forward to place the article in the center of their group. Frodo grasped the newspaper, the other three Hobbits leaning over his shoulder to read the headline, and Frodo frowned. “That’s odd.” He said. “They tried to rob the same vault that Radagast took me too.”

“Radagast?” Pippin asked.

“Yes. He’s Keeper of the Keys and Grounds at Hogwarts. Lives down in a hut, not far from here at all. He was the one who welcomed us, when we got off the train. Led us to the carriages. A good friend of Gandalf’s.” Frodo explained. “Bilbo came along, too. We were at that vault.”

Boromir rose a brow. “What could anyone want at the vault?”

“Well… Listen.” Frodo started, reading off an excerpt of the newspaper article.

#  _**THE DAILY PROPHET**_

### 

_BREAK IN AT GRINGOTTS – GRINGOTTS SECURITY BREACHES_

Believed to be the work of Dark  
wizards or witches, Gringotts goblins  
acknowledge the breach but insist nothing  
was taken. The vault in question, number 713,  
had been emptied earlier that day.  


“Do you know what they took from the vault?” Sam asked.

Frodo shook his head. “No. I don’t. Radagast said that it was top-secret. That Gandalf sent him to get it. I didn’t question it.” He explained and exhaled. “Bilbo seemed to know what it was, however. Wouldn’t say a thing about it.”

The eight of them looked around at each other, and Legolas felt a bit uneasy. Nothing could be as bad as it seemed, could it? Gandalf would take care of it all.

* * *

“Good-afternoon, class,” The Professor of Flying said, starting down the center of his students on the grass. Gryffindor had class with Slytherin again, and Gimli didn’t seem all too happy about it. A change of scenery, however, was much needed. It was beautiful outside, and they were situated within the Quidditch field, the much admired sport of Hogwarts students and teachers.

“Good-afternoon, Professor Bard.” The students said in sync as he stood at the front of them. Gryffindor students were in line on one side, with Slytherin on the other, a single broom next to each person for them to practice with.

Bard turned around and breathed in a bit. He had a black moustache to match the color of his shoulder-length hair, a bit of hair below his lower lip and at his chin. He certainly didn’t seem as stern as Thranduil, but rather eager to teach his students. “Welcome to your first flying lesson. Well, what are we waiting for? Now, everyone, step up to your broomstick,” He began instructing, “And then, stick your right hand over the broom and say, ‘Up.’”

All of them began to say it at once, many unsuccessful with their brooms at first. Frodo had been the first to do it, Merry and Pippin glancing over at him in amazement as the broom flew up from the ground and into Frodo’s hand, before they started to try it themselves. Haldir got it next, expression quite smug as he did so, and it didn’t take Legolas very long to be able to do it as well.

Once everyone got the hang of it ( aside from Pippin, who was smacked in the face by the wooden end of his broom and recovered quickly ), Bard began to walk down the line of students to see if any of them needed assistance.

“Good job. Now, once you’ve got ahold of your broom, I want you to mount it.” He said. “Grip it tight. You don’t want to be sliding off of the end.”

As everyone did so, they grasped ahold of their brooms, mounting them and making sure they were steady.

“When I blow my whistle, I want you all to kick off of the ground, hard. Keep your broom steady, hover for a moment… then lean forward slightly, and touch back down.” Bard explained, looking around at his group of students. “Ready?”

A couple of them nodded, grasping their brooms nervously. Legolas found himself glancing over at Gimli in occasion, just to make sure he was all right. Gimli wasn’t doing so bad, truth be told.

“On my whistle… Three, two—” And he blew into the whistle.

No one had moved, at first – Except for Fredegar “Fatty” Bolger, who had no control over his broom whatsoever, and continuously rose once he was in the air.

“Mr. Bolger…” Bard’s brow knitted together. “Steady, Fredegar—”

Fredegar looked terrified, howling at his broom to go down. Instead, it went straight up and into the air, taking Fredegar with it, Bard calling for him to come down.

Fredegar lost control entirely, and his broomstick was heading straight towards the gates of the Quidditch field – A metal cage for a lantern at the side caught his robe, the broom flying away and out of sight. Fredegar was much too heavy, and his outer robes tore, sending him falling seven or eight feet before he landed on his wrist with a yelp and leaving him in his black pants and Hogwarts sweater, red and golden tie disheveled. The grass wasn’t much aid in preventing the pain in his wrist.

Bard pushed past his students swiftly and made his way over to see if Mr. Bolger could stand. He breathed in a bit and exhaled. Certainly eventful for a first lesson. “Let me help you up, Fredegar.” He said, bringing him up and onto his feet. “Keep your feet on the ground while I take Mr. Bolger to the hospital wing. If I see a single broom in the air, the one riding it will be expelled before they could say ‘Quidditch’.” And with that, Bard guided Fredegar back to the castle.

From Fredegar’s pocket had dropped the Remembrall, landing at Haldir’s feet. With a slight smirk he leaned down, grasping the item and tossing it up and down.

“Did you see his face?” Haldir snickered. “If he had squeezed it, maybe he would have remembered to fall on his fat arse.” A couple of Slytherin students laughed, Haldir finding himself more successful with an audience.

Everyone was shocked when it was Frodo who had stepped up, an arm extended, looking up at the Elf. “Give it here.” Frodo said. “It isn’t yours.”

“No, I don’t think I will give it.” Haldir hissed. “I’ll leave it somewhere for Fatty to find later.” Without hesitation, Haldir mounted his broom and began to fly. It was obvious he’s had previous skill with it. “I’ll leave it on the roof. What’s the matter, _Baggins?_ ” He called from the air. “Is it much too high for you, just as anyone standing next to you is?”

Frodo squinted slightly, starting to mount his broom.

“Mister Frodo, no,” Sam shook his head. “You heard what Professor Bard said.”

Frodo, ignoring the words, mounted the broom and started up towards Haldir, trying to snatch it from him. They were unable to hear what they were saying from down below, but eventually, Haldir tossed it with a powerful arm, and it was sent flying off into the distance. Frodo went after it.

“Merlin, what I’d do to knock that pointy-ear bastard off of his broom.” Gimli grumbled, glancing to Legolas. “Erh—No offense. I like your pointy ears better.”

Legolas smiled a bit. “None taken, my dear friend.” He said.

After a moment or so, Frodo returned with the Remembrall in his hands, and some of the Gryffindor students cheered as he landed again.

“You’ve got it!” Merry said with enthusiasm.

“That was amazing. Where did you learn to do that?” One of Fredegar’s friends piped up.

“How did you do that, Frodo?”

“I just—I just caught it.” Frodo laughed. “It nearly broke a window, but… I caught it.” He said.

In all of their jubilation, they had barely enough time to realize that Professor Galadriel Epessë was approaching, her expression, however, showing no signs of disapproval. “Mr. Baggins,” She called with a calm voice.

Frodo and the rest turned towards her, his smile fading slightly. Despite her serene nature, he couldn’t help but fear he was in trouble. She must have spotted him through the window, when he went to catch it.

“Please come with me.” She said, placing an arm out to indicate they were to head back to the castle. “The rest of you have an early dismissal from class. Head back to the common room until your next one.” She instructed, before Frodo finally followed along, and the rest of them went back inside. 

* * *

“Poor Frodo.” Sam sighed as they entered the Gryffindor common room. It was amongst the most comfortable of rooms, with plenty of armchairs and couches, a hearth for warmth at night and bookshelves upon bookshelves. Tables were available along certain places within the room as well for anyone who needed to catch up on studying, or homework.

“He was only being a good friend.” Aragorn said, plopping down onto the couch with an exhale. “I don’t see why they’d punish him.”

“What if dear cousin Frodo gets expelled?” Pippin cried.

“Cousin?” Boromir questioned.

Merry nodded. “Yes. Frodo and I are first cousins, once removed. And dear old Pippin and I are first cousins, so… In a way, also second cousins once removed.”

Boromir blinked. “Right…”

“Do we have any homework?” Legolas asked as he sat down in front of the couch on the floor, placing his bag beside him and emptying the few textbooks he had onto the coffee table. He was sitting with his legs crisscrossed, quite comfortable in position.

“Uh—Charms, I think.” Aragorn said. “And a lot of it.”

Legolas exhaled. His father did enjoy a heavy work load. “Anything else?”

“Professor Oakenshield gave us Potions homework. Not much, by the looks of it, but—”

“I don’t see why any of y’have to worry about work right now.” Gimli pointed out, moving to sit next to Legolas on the floor. It was now common for the two to always be seated or standing with one another. “It is a _free_ , after all.”

Legolas chuckled. “Am I the only one to complete my studies? You do realize if you put it off now, you’ll have to look forward to it after dinner.” He commented.

Merry, Pippin and Sam squeezed themselves onto the couch next to Aragorn and Boromir, where Boromir was now squished into Aragorn’s side, who was seated next to the arm of the furniture. Legolas and Gimli chose correctly in sitting upon the floor. It was still mid-day, in a way, and although the sun would soon be weakening and falling entirely to night, sunshine broke through the windows in warm rays that, although they didn’t hit where the seven of them were seated at the couch, cast a pleasant coziness around the room.

“Not all of it is due tomorrow, is it?” Pippin complained with a dramatic groan.

“Well… Thranduil’s is.” Legolas pointed out, the smile upon his lips lingering as he awaited another sound of complaint. It had come, of course, but this time from all three of the Hobbits, and there was a slight sigh from Boromir as well.

“Maybe we should do our work.” Sam suggested, glancing at the rest of them on the couch. They had about forty-five minutes before their next class, which was plenty of time to complete their Charms homework, and perhaps squeeze something else in.

The three Hobbits, however, had chosen to sleep instead. They were adrift in light slumber where they were, upon the couch, and although they had spoken at first, the three of them fell asleep during the comfortable silence. Aragorn and Boromir were speaking to one another, comfortably seated, and although they were relatively close to Legolas and Gimli, the four of them paid no mind to each other’s conversations.

As Legolas worked on his Charms homework, Gimli rested his chin upon the coffee table’s top, simply watching him as he worked. Legolas didn’t seem to mind, for it was their turn to fall into untroubled noiselessness. At one point or another, however, Legolas had turned to look at Gimli.

“You seem weary.” Legolas commented, turning his eyes back to his work as he dipped the tip of his quill into the ink, and continued to write.

“Me? I’d really prefer not to go to our next class. I’ll take the same route as our dear Hobbit friends and sleep until dinner.” Gimli grumbled.

Legolas chuckled. “A fine idea, but an ill-chosen course.”

Gimli was quiet again, before exhaling, and going into his own bag to pull out his Charms textbook. “Never in my life has someone encouraged me to start doing work. _Especially_ without the mention of food, or ale.” The Dwarf commented. Although they may seem young, it wasn’t uncommon for an Elf, Dwarf or Hobbit to consume alcohol. Hogwarts, however, simply chose in correct manner _not_ to serve it to their students. “You’re the first.”

Legolas couldn’t help but smile. “Shall I appear honored?”

“Damn right you should. You have made Gimli, Son of Glóin, take out his textbooks.”

“Now let’s see if you’re noble enough to open them.” Legolas teased.

“You dare suspect so little of a Dwarf from the Blue Mountains?” Gimli said, feigning triumph.

Legolas tilted his head in interest. “The Blue Mountains, you say?”

“Aye. I was born during the exile of Durin’s folk, though my father does wish for me to represent Erebor, someday.” Gimli exhaled, gathering parchment paper. “Can I borrow some of your ink?”

Legolas slid the small bottle across the table and placed it in the center, so they could both use it. “Erebor? Reclaimed during the First Wizarding War, right?”

Gimli nodded. “My father tells me much of the Battle of Five Armies.”

Legolas was hesitant with his next words. “This may seem… A bit out of context, but… What do you know of… Of He-Who-Shall-Not-Be-Named?”

Gimli eyes Legolas with reluctance. “My father told me very little of the Dark Lord. That, however, didn’t stop me from reading more about him.” He sighed. “You’ve heard the stories, haven’t you?” His voice fell quieter. Boromir and Aragorn seemed to have dozed off. “Dear Frodo surviving the attack. No one knows where the One Ring went.”

The One Ring. _The One Ring to rule them all._

Legolas felt almost guilty speaking of the topic. “Perhaps this is none of our business to discuss.” He said, sighing, and he brought a strand of blonde hair behind his pointed ear. The other side of his head had a single braid, also tucked behind that ear.

“No… No, you’re right, lad.” Gimli murmured. They ended the conversation there, finishing off the Charms homework they had left. 

* * *

“ _Seeker_ of the Quidditch team?” Merry and Pippin’s jaws dropped at Frodo’s news. “Frodo… First years never make the House teams.” Pippin commented. Dinner had arrived, and they had just met up with Frodo, who was bearing rather great news.

Frodo chuckled. “Well—Madame Galadriel saw me catch Fredegar’s Remembrall, introduced me to the Captain of The Gryffindor Quidditch Team. His name’s Fíli. He’s a fifth year here at Hogwarts.”

“Fíli, Son of Dís? Isn’t that Thorin Oakenshield’s nephew?” Aragorn asked.

“He is.” Gimli nodded. “He was part of the Thorin’s Company, back in the First Wizarding World.”

“And the reclaim of Erebor.” Legolas added.

“Doesn’t he have a brother?” Aragorn asked, sipping some beverage from his goblet.

“Kíli, his name is. I think he’s a third year.” Gimli explained. “They’re family friends, truth be told. A good lot to be around.”

“Nevermind that, Frodo must be the youngest player in—” Sam started, unsure of how long it’s been.

“Centuries, Professor Epessë claims.” Frodo said, taking a bite of his food. Dinner was always wonderful at Hogwarts.

“Well done, Frodo.” A voice called from behind where the Hobbits were situated – An older boy, with brown hair and a friendly smile.

“This is Bergil.” Boromir smiled when he saw the boy. “He’s a fourth year, part of the team. Good friend of my brother, Faramir.”

Frodo greeted him, shaking his hand. “It’s good to meet you, Bergil. And—Thank you.”

“My job, and a friend of mine, is to make sure you don’t get bloodied up during the game. Rough game it is, Quidditch.” Bergil said.

“Aye, don’t scare the lad.” Gimli said.

“No one’s died in years.” Bergil said in return. “Sometimes they disappear, but they always turn up eventually.”

Frodo exhaled, and Bergil said goodbye as he walked off to sit with friends. “What if I make a fool of myself?” He said, slightly paranoid.

“You won’t, Mister Frodo.” Sam said. “It’s in your blood.”

“What’s he talking about?” Boromir asked curiously.

Frodo smiled. “Bilbo was a seeker for Gryffindor.”

“I wouldn’t worry much, Frodo.” Legolas said. “You’re better suited than any of us would be. When’s the first game?”

“Well, the season doesn’t start for a couple of more weeks, so I’ll have to learn it first.” Frodo said. “But our first game, we’re versing Slytherin.”

Gimli laughed. “Good! You’ll win, and we can never let that go for Haldir.”

“That’s the thing.” Frodo started. “Haldir _is_ the other team’s seeker.”

“Even better! You beat him, and it’s something personal.” Gimli said.

“Now, now, Gimli,” Legolas chuckled, “How much better would that make us if we do that?” He said, turning towards Frodo. “What _really_ would be brilliant is if you knock him off of his broom. It will be the topic of conversation for weeks.”

The eight of them shared a moment of laughter as they continued to eat, and went to bed with calm minds and satisfied stomachs.


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Legolas decides to help Gimli out with his Charms homework, and the practice doesn't go to waste... mostly.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **Hooray. More things to note! :**
> 
> \- Just one today, a reminder that although this is a LOTR Harry Potter AU, I will be using a couple of characters from Harry Potter itself. I apologize if this happens to bother anyone, for Harry Potter has many more characters than LOTR does, or at least ones I can use that fits properly within the history of their realm. Enjoy the chapter!
> 
> **TRANSLATIONS**
> 
> \- Are cin all foeir, nín meld iôn? : Are you all right, my dear son?  
> \- Im am okaui, Ada. : I am okay, Father.  
> \- I norna na- continuouslui getting cin into trast-. Im’m ú- verui fond -o ha. Ha isn’t sael an cin na gling- nia hon, Legolas : That Dwarf is continuously getting you into trouble. I'm not very fond of it. It isn't wise for you to hang about him, Legolas  
> \- Gimli thel- baw harm. : Gimli means no harm.  
> \- Baw baur na worrui nia nin. Glenn- back na cín common room, a post. Im must take care -o i radag before ha echui. : =" No need to worry about me. Go back to your common room, and rest. I must take care of the beast before its awakening.

The group had found that the most excruciating source of homework was indeed from Professor Greenleaf. They had only hoped that the work load would die down as the weeks went on, but Legolas knew his father better than all of them – It only continued to pile up, to allow them to spend quite a bit of their time sitting down within the Gryffindor common room, hunched over in their chairs with slight smudges of ink on the sides of their hands and occasional murmurs of complaint as they all did their homework. It was rather nice sometimes, however, for spending time with one another was something they all enjoyed quite a bit.

They had Defense Against the Dark Arts, the very last class of their day before they were to head to dinner, and for quite some time had they found their Professor rather peculiar… Professor Théoden was what he went by, an older man, although very unsure at times. He wasn’t the _worst_ of Professors, but it was known amongst Hogwarts students that the Defense Against the Dark Arts position was cursed. They never found a teacher that was to remain after the school year was up, though somehow the students did manage to follow a sturdy curriculum.

The class went smoothly, aside from the professor dropping his wand three times ( although that had become the usual ), and they were heading back up the stairs towards the Great Hall for dinner.

“Thank Merlin he was so nervous that he even forgot to assign us homework.” Gimli said as they started up each step. The Hobbits were in front, with Gimli, Legolas, Aragorn and Boromir following shortly behind.

“And it’s the weekend.” Merry said happily.

“Which we’ll still end up sleeping, eating, and procrastinating through, to finish our papers Monday morning.” Pippin pointed out.

“Bloody hell, he’s said something intelligent!” Boromir teased lightly, to which they laughed off.

Amidst their movements upon the staircase, the entire structure began to shift and change course, leaving the eight of them turning in the completely opposite direction. Staircases within Hogwarts were known to move frequently within the castle, but it was an odd movement indeed.

“Erh—Can we get to the Great Hall this way?” Sam asked, a bit confused as they all stepped up to the door that the staircase had turned to.

“Perhaps it might.” Legolas said, looking around. “If not, we can come back, and wait for it to move once more.”

As the eight of them entered through the door, they paused entirely as the hall they arrived in was dark, aside from the light shining through the main area they had just come from.

Merry frowned. “Oh, dear.”

“This is the third floor.” Aragorn commented. “It’s forbidden.”

“We should head back.” Frodo insisted.

Just as they spoke a cat came prowling through the doorway they had entered from, a low growl emitting from the back of its throat. Its fur was brown and matted, with a deep set of red eyes.

“Oh, dear.” Sam said again, exasperated and more panicked. “It’s Filch’s cat. We need to go.” He agreed.

“Let’s go this way,” Pippin suggested, and they all followed him down the darkness of the hallway. The eight of them stopped in front of a closed door, and as Merry grasped and pulled the doorknob, it would not open.

“It’s locked!” He cried.

“Filch is probably already heading this way. That’s it, we’re expelled!” Pippin said dramatically.

Aragorn cleared his throat a little bit, and the rest of them turned to glance at him. “May I?” He pulled out his wand from his robes, stepping forward and through Pippin and Merry. He faced the door, and breathed in, before whisking his wand and saying, “ _Alohomora_.” The lock clicked open, and the door opened with a slight creak. He turned to look at his friends. Merry and Pippin seemed entirely amazed, as if they had just witnessed Gandalf set off his fireworks at the Shire. The rest of them seemed impressed.

“What are we all standing around for?” Aragorn smiled. “Let’s go.”

Aragorn stepped through first, the rest following.

“Did you see that? That was brilliant. Truly brilliant.” Merry chimed.

“He does know quite a lot.” Frodo commented.

As they all entered through the door, however, all of them paused, frozen at the sight in front of them.

An enormous canine the size of the room that they were in had three massive heads. It had a ragged brown coat as it snored sleepily, drool spilling from its giant black-lined lips. Every breath from its nostrils was a hot burst of moisture against the skin that wasn’t covered by their Gryffindor uniform.

They were unable to move, and afraid to.

“Perhaps we should… turn back.” Legolas said under a whisper, his eyes scanning the area. The dog was guarding something underneath it, a door it seemed.

Before they were able to even properly compose themselves, the dog stirred, and all three sets of eyes slowly fluttered open. It growled at the sight of them, and gradually it picked itself up to its feet.

Gimli was the first to move. He grabbed Legolas’ hand and pulled him towards the door with obvious terror, Aragorn, Boromir, and the Hobbits following quickly behind.

All eight of them had to push the door shut together in order to keep the force of the beast from thrusting it open, and Frodo clicked the lock in a hurry. They took the other door, down the hallway, then led them down another set of stairs, finally upon the same floor of the Great Hall. They were breathless, taken by complete surprise and as they reached the Gryffindor dinner table ( a bit late, mind them ), they were silent for quite some time, the very few of them having the stomach to eat being the Hobbits.

“What do they think they’re doing? Keeping a thing like that in a school?” Gimli piped up.

“It’s guarding something. Didn’t you look at its feet?” Legolas asked gently.

Gimli sputtered. “Feet? I was too busy making sure my wee head wasn’t bitten off by its _three heads_!” He hissed quietly.

“Legolas is right.” Aragorn said after a moment. “There was a trap door underneath the beast. It obviously wasn’t placed there on accident.”

“We should forget about it.” Frodo murmured. “Whatever’s down there… Whoever put it there doesn’t want it to be found.”

The rest of their dinner was spent in utter silence, no matter how much conversation they were surrounded by.

* * *

“I mean, did you see the heads on that thing? _Three_.” Gimli scoffed, getting himself ready for bed. He crawled up and onto the mattress, pulling the crimson-colored duvet up to his body. Aragorn and Boromir were already within a deep slumber, curled up beneath the warmth of their blankets.

“It was an odd sight.” Legolas agreed, pulling off his Gryffindor tie with a gentle exhale, and pulling the curtain of his bedframe closed so he could change into clothes appropriate for sleep. “I can only imagine as to what is down there. Part of me would rather not.”

“Isn’t Frodo good friends with Radagast? The, erh—” Gimli trailed off, trying to think of the title.

“Keeper of Keys and Grounds at Hogwarts.” Legolas said, pulling the curtain open after he was finished changing, and he himself crawled into bed. “What about him?”

“Well, won’t he know a bit about creatures? Frodo tells me Radagast is constantly befriending _beasts_ and the like. He might be able to tell us.” Gimli explained.

Legolas chuckled. “You’re quite curious, my dear friend.” He brought his legs underneath the covers. “But don’t you fear if we ask, we might further ourselves into trouble?” He leaned his back against the pillows, head turned towards Gimli.

“Maybe.” Gimli grumbled, fingering his growing beard. “We can ask the lad tomorrow. Frodo might have similar thoughts as I.”

Legolas nodded in agreement. He couldn’t deny he himself was rather interested to know, but if it were truly top secret, it might be best to let it be. A bit of a smile appeared on his lips, and his eyes remained on the Dwarf. “You’ve done your Charms homework, right?”

Gimli was quick to glance away, and Legolas couldn’t help but chuckle. “Gimli, I’ve told you it’s not wise to leave it until morning.”

“Erh, I know, but—I got a bit sidetracked.” He murmured.

Legolas laughed once more. “Come, let’s do it.”

Gimli blinked. “Now?”

“Yes, now. You’re going to wake up late and end up attempting to finish it at breakfast.” Legolas said, peeling the blankets from his body to approach Gimli’s bed. “Where’s your bag?”

Gimli pushed the covers from his own legs. “Right here,” He said, reaching down to grasp his bag from the side of his bed, and bring it on to the mattress. “I can’t believe we’re doing this now.”

“I can.” Legolas beamed. “I’ll help you out. Let’s begin.”

With Legolas assisting Gimli, helping him with certain phrases he didn’t understand or specific wand movements he couldn’t quite get the hang of, they finished in about an hour. The ink had dried upon the parchment paper and Legolas helped him to place it all away, saying goodnight as he returned to his own bed.

They had done this for many nights in a row, and from now on. Legolas enjoyed tutoring his friend, and to avoid stirring Aragorn and Boromir from their sleep ( Boromir had thrown a pillow at them at one point when Gimli was being a _bit_ too loud ), they moved down to the Gryffindor common room. Each night they’d sit by the fire, the warmth of the hearth always threatening sleep amongst their half-lidded eyes, but never quite taking them. They finished early most times, often spending another half hour or so down in the common room, simply talking, sharing stories of their home and traditions.

“I’ve never quite understood as to why there is so much quarrel between the Elves and Dwarves.” Legolas said one night, resting his side against the arm of the couch as he sat upon the cushion. His chin in his palm, his eyes were turned towards Gimli, who was sitting in the armchair next to the couch. “Or rather, why there _has_ to be.”

“Aye.” Gimli said in agreement, giving a sleepy shrug. “I guess the Elves are a bit _unhelpful_ in certain situations.”

Legolas glanced over at the Dwarf, though a smile was upon his lips, and a playful eyebrow was raised. He knew that Gimli was only teasing. “Unhelpful, you say? I apologize that _my kind_ doesn’t swing axes around like lunatics.” He taunted teasingly.

Gimli made a low sound, seemingly a chuckle. “An axe is what keeps us alive. What is it you use? Sticks and some string?”

“It’s called a bow and arrow. Are you unfamiliar with weapons?” Legolas teased, smiling down at the carpet, staring at nothing in particular. Simply thinking for a moment or so, his thin digits fumbled with the loose thread upon the couch, the fire casting a glow upon his prominent features. “It’s rather funny. Truly, we all use a wand. It’s one of the most helpful tools within magic. We’re all so very alike, but…”

“Still find a way to hate one another.” Gimli said with a yawn.

Legolas nodded, glancing over at the Dwarf. “Come, my friend.” He said, slowly standing from the couch. “Let’s get you to bed.”

* * *

The weeks had gone by, and Legolas and Gimli had ultimately decided to drop the subject of the three headed beast entirely. The entire group forgot about it as well, focused within their work, and the upcoming holidays within fall.

It was October 31st, Halloween night, and the Hogwarts students and teachers were enjoying plenty of treats after dinner. The Great Hall was decorated in mist and floating jack-o’-lanterns, all of the Houses at peace and speaking to one another warmly. The group was sitting together per usual, though Legolas couldn’t help but note the absence at his side.

“Where’s Gimli?” Legolas questioned, looking around the group.

“He went to the bathroom earlier.” Frodo said.

“And he hasn’t been back since?” the Elf asked in slight concern.

Frodo simply shrugged, though he did look a bit confused himself. “Perhaps he’ll be back soon. I wouldn’t worry.” He reassured.

After a moment, all of it had occurred rather fast. The vast doors of the Great Hall flew open, and through came Professor Théoden, fearing for his life.

“Troll!” He shouted dramatically, silence falling upon the students of Hogwarts. “ _Troll in the dungeon!_ ”

He paused mid-way through the Hall, feeling lightheaded, murmuring a, “Thought you ought to know,” before fainting on the spot.

It was silent again, before chaos and panic broke out. Students crawled out of their seats, rushing towards the doors of the Great Hall, trying to push past one another.

“ _Silence!_ ”

The entirety of the Great Hall paused as Gandalf’s voice flooded the room in an echoing warning, and all of the students turned towards the Headmaster.

“Prefects,” Gandalf started, looking around the room, “You will take your students back to their common rooms. Teachers… We will head to the dungeon.”

A Prefect was, in a way, a student allowed to enforce discipline amongst their House, though they were really just head of it, guiding the students when they needed to and performing responsibilities that the Headmaster may be too busy to do. The Gryffindor Prefect, Nori, a sixth year at Hogwarts, guided his House through the Great Hall and out of it, the other Houses following after shortly.

Legolas paused, grasping Aragorn’s arm and pulling him aside as the rest of the Gryffindors followed Nori.. “Gimli,” He said, worry lacing his features. “He doesn’t know.”

The two of them started in the opposite direction, and once Boromir and the Hobbits caught sight of them, they were quick to follow.

“Where are you going?” Pippin asked, catching up with Legolas and Aragorn, who were moving at a fast pace.

“Gimli. He’s still in the bathroom. We have to tell him to come back to the common room.” Aragorn explained quickly, though they paused down the corridor when the shadow of the troll was evident. They all rushed aside, behind one of the slabs connected to the wall, except for Pippin, who had to be dragged over by Merry. The seven of them peaked out from behind, watching as the troll, quite large, sluggish and slouching, with a club and tattered rags as clothing, made its way towards the boy’s bathroom.

“Oh, no.” Sam murmured.

Legolas, without warning, started towards the bathroom. There was a crash inside, the sound of wood snapping and falling to the floor, and it was most likely the stalls that had just been broken by the troll.

He rushed inside, eyes wide as he looked around, and he spotted Gimli in the first stall, crouching and covering his head as the troll swung the club mindlessly.

“Gimli!” Legolas called, “Quickly, move out of the way!”

Gimli ducked once more, just in time as the troll swung its massive clump of wood again, the top part of the green-painted compartments breaking into pieces as Gimli was semi-buried in the rubble.

Aragorn picked up chunks of the wood, starting to toss it at the troll to divert his attention from Gimli. The Hobbits and Boromir followed suit, though as Gimli rushed towards the bathroom sinks to place himself underneath and the troll brought its club back to swing again, Legolas grabbed ahold of its weapon. As it swung, Legolas brought himself up and on to the troll’s shoulders, the club falling shortly next to Gimli. Legolas whipped out his wand, though with the troll struggling, there was little he could do.

Gimli’s eyes widened, and he fumbled for his own wand.

“Gimli,” Legolas called from upon the troll, looking down at his friend. “Remember. _Swish and flick._ ”

The Dwarf breathed in a bit, though he moved his wand, pointing it at the club that was now raised in the air, and he said, “ _Wingardium Leviosa!_ ”

The weapon slipped from the troll’s hand, and Legolas slid off of the beast with a grin. Gimli lowered his wand, and the club hit the center of the troll’s skull, rendering him unconscious. Legolas backed up, allowing the troll to fall upon its stomach, before he slowly looked up and over at Gimli, who was covered in dust from the broken bathroom stalls.

“Is it… dead?” Gimli asked hesitantly, peering down at the Dwarf.

“I don’t believe so.” Aragorn murmured, looking down at the unconscious creature. “Just knocked out.”

All at once, Galadriel, Thranduil and Théoden stepped into the bathroom. Galadriel gasped shortly, looking around at the eight of them, before a harsh set of eyes were glued to where Legolas, Aragorn, Boromir and the Hobbits stood. “I should hope you have a valid excuse as to why you’re here.”

“Well, you see—” Pippin started.

“Professor, we were just—” Merry said, though cut off by Gimli’s words.

“It was, erh—My fault, Professor.” Gimli spoke up. “I know a bit about trolls, or—At least I assumed I did. Thought I could take on the beast myself. I was wrong.” He lied.

Thranduil hid a bit of a smirk. He always thought very lowly of the Dwarf.

Galadriel’s expression was one of shock, as was everyone else’s in the room. “I’m very disappointed to hear of that, Gimli, especially from you of all students. Five points will be taken from Gryffindor due to _serious_ lack of judgement.” She said, slowly turning towards the rest of them. “And as for the rest of you…” She eyed each of them, a brow raised. “I hope you realize how very fortunate you are. Not many first years could take on a fully-grown troll. Five points…” She started, glancing at the troll. “Will be awarded to each of you.”

The seven of them pressed or hid a smile, though Pippin did little to contain his happiness.

“For sheer, dumb luck.” Galadriel said with a bit of a sigh. “Go along. Back to your common room. Rest would be wise for all of you.” She said, before turning to exit. Théoden followed shortly behind, though Thranduil lingered, placing a gentle hand upon his son’s arm to prevent him from leaving. It was the two of them left within the bathroom.

“ _Are cin all foeir, nín meld iôn?_ ” Thranduil asked, concern lacing his previously smug features as he searched his son for wounds or injury.

Legolas nodded, offering his father a smile of reassurance. “ _Im am okaui, Ada._ ”

Thranduil exhaled in slight relief and nodded, kneeling down in front of his son, hands placed at his shoulders. “ _I norna na- continuouslui getting cin into trast-. Im’m ú- verui fond -o ha. Ha isn’t sael an cin na gling- nia hon, Legolas._ ”

Legolas frowned. “ _Gimli thel- baw harm._ ”

“And does a first year going after a troll alone not place the word 'danger' within your head?” Thranduil rose a brow.

Legolas looked down with a small frown. Catching sight of a deep wound on his father’s leg, however, pulled him from the topic they were discussing entirely. “Father, your leg."

Thranduil was swift to cover the long gash upon his calf with his robe. “ _Baw baur na worrui nia nin. Glenn- back na cín common room, a post. Im must take care -o i radag before ha echui._ ”

Legolas nodded, taking one last glimpse at the troll, before saying goodbye to his father and exiting the bathroom.

* * *

“Did you truly take on a troll?” Legolas glanced over at the Dwarf. All of them were sitting within the Gryffindor common room, finishing their homework after washing up and discussing what had just occurred. They were in their usual seats, Legolas and Gimli upon the floor on the coffee table, and the Hobbits upon the couch. This time, Aragorn and Boromir squeezed themselves into an arm chair.

“Blimey.” Gimli chuckled. “I could barely pass my _Charms_ exam, let alone face a troll.”

“Then why’d you do it? Get us out of trouble?” Boromir asked, tilting his head.

Gimli shrugged a bit, glancing away. “You lads shouldn’t take the fall when I should have been at dinner.” He said.

Aragorn reached over to briefly pat Gimli’s shoulder. “We don’t deserve it.” He said. “But thank you, Gimli.”

They returned to their homework, and while the rest of them were distracted amongst themselves, Legolas leaned towards Gimli. “Is that what’s been bothering you?” He asked in a low voice.

Gimli glanced towards Legolas. “What?”

“Your Charms exam. We got the results back today. Is that what’s been bothering you?” He repeated the words.

Gimli breathed in a bit. “No—No, of course not—” He said, though Legolas could tell right through his lies, and Gimli exhaled. “Okay. _Yes._ I didn’t do so well, so I went to the bathroom to practice. Just for a little bit. I figured with extra practice time… I’d be doing better next time.”

Legolas smiled a little bit. “You’re becoming very skilled already. My father is simply a harsh grader. He is impressed but doesn’t want to show it. He’s stubborn, as most Elves are.”

Gimli eyed his friend. “You think so?”

Legolas nodded. “I know so.”


End file.
